


electric magnetic

by miramiro



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Exes JohnKun & JohnTen, M/M, Meet-Cute, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miramiro/pseuds/miramiro
Summary: What do you do when you meet your ex-boyfriend's ex-boyfriend?You fall in love with them, of course.(Ten and Kun would like to disagree.)
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Side Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 152
Kudos: 348





	1. Chapter 1

Leaning against the balcony railing, Kun gazes up at the cloudy night sky and takes a swig of his beer. It looks like rain. Kun wonders whether he should make his excuses to the host—no, _hosts_ : Johnny and Taeil—and make his way home. In retrospect, it was weird enough that Kun showed up to the party in the first place, it’d be weirder still to stay longer. Kun’s not having a great time, anyway.

He can hear Johnny cheering Taeil on as he wipes the floor with his opponents in beer pong. Kun does not know anyone else at the party and he’s not in the mood to socialize—really, he should just go home. The small number of people occupying the apartment, the meticulously prepared cocktails, along with the music turned low enough to not hamper conversations speaks of a degree of intimacy that makes Kun feel uncomfortable, suffocated. 

Separated from the claustrophobic space by the sliding doors, Kun leans further over the balcony and breathes in the stale air of the city deeply. Maybe it won’t rain after all. Maybe the clouds Kun can see are actually smoke from some faraway volcanic eruption that Kun doesn’t know about, mixed with the pollution of the city. Maybe he should check the news for some volcanic activity. Does this country have volcanoes? Kun suddenly has a burning desire to know.

“Qian Kun, is it?” a smooth, lilting voice says right next to Kun’s ear, the warm puff of air making Kun feel a tingling sensation deep in his gut. He barely manages to suppress the sudden shiver that runs down his spine.

“That’s right,” Kun says, glancing at the stranger leaning his back against the railing. He can’t look away immediately the way he wants to, arrested by the man’s kohl-lined eyes and teasing smirk, his silver hair, and the numerous elegant earrings and studs dotting his ears. 

There is something deceptively alluring about the man. Kun is reminded of Hutong, the grey and white cat he briefly met and befriended at an Airbnb in Beijing that would invitingly show off its belly only to claw Kun if he tried to touch. The loud yellow leather jacket and black Doc Martens are a _choice,_ in Kun’s opinion, though they do nothing to detract from the man’s attractiveness. He must enjoy standing out from the crowd, Kun thinks. _Interesting_. 

“So you’re the one who stole my boyfriend,” the man says lightly, nonchalantly, bookending the sentence with a smile hidden in his wine glass that he takes a sip from. Kun mentally notes the manicured hands, the nails painted black, and nearly smacks himself for getting distracted. 

“Excuse me?” he sputters, embarrassed at his train of thought more than he is shocked at the man’s words. The man takes another sip, then chases the taste off of his lips with his tongue, all while maintaining eye contact. Kun hopes his ears aren’t burning.

“Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul,” the man says. “I go by Ten. You might have heard of me.”

Kun frowns. The name certainly sounds familiar. He’s heard it somewhere. Often, at some point in his life. But where? From whom? It strikes him suddenly. Like lightning through the clouds with no imminent signs of rain. 

“Oh, you’re Johnny’s—” he cuts himself off. He doesn’t know why he did that; it’s like his brain just ran out of words to complete the sentence. Ten quirks up a corner of his lips.

“I _was_ Johnny’s, yes,” Ten says lightly. “Before he left me for you.”

Kun doesn’t know what to say. He opens and shuts his mouth, at a complete loss for words. Ten laughs. Kun stares at him shaking with mirth. The wine does not spill. Ten calms down, catches his breath, smiles mischievously at Kun. 

“Your face! You’re looking all panicked as if someone dumped the sole responsibility to bring about world peace on your shoulders,” Ten cackles. “Or maybe it’s the guilt, hm?” He is no longer cackling, but Kun reads the glint in his eyes as mischievous rather than Machiavellian.

Kun remembers him now. Johnny’s best friend— _a menace_ , Johnny called him, _but you can’t help but love him_ —whom he never got to meet while he dated Johnny, because he was off country-hopping, purportedly touring with his dance company. _Actually, Ten said he wants to find himself_ , Johnny had revealed. 

Whether or not Ten had found himself yet, Kun didn’t know. But he was going to make sure Ten found him an unrelenting participant in his weird mind games if that’s what he had accosted Kun for.

Holding Ten’s gaze, Kun says softly, “I heard you went soul-searching.” Kun swallows the last mouthful of his beer. “Did your search lead you to me? Is that what this is, hm?”

Ten narrows his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he states flatly, sullenly, minutely turning his body away from Kun, as he sips his wine. 

Kun follows his gaze, leaning his back against the railing as well. “I would if you’d like to tell me,” he says. Through the glass doors, Kun can see Johnny clambering up onto a table. He’s too tall for it and hits his head against the lamp. Taeil is standing beside the table, laughing as he tries to get Johnny to step down.

“Only if you answer my question,” Ten answers, flashing an impish smile at Kun before he dramatically tips his head back, swallowing the last mouthful of wine. He licks his lips again, but this time, Kun is unfazed. Through sheer will power.

“What was your question?” Kun asks, knowing very well what the question was. Ten sees right through him. “You tell me,” he says. Kun knows he’ll probably never win against him, so he trains his gaze on the party inside. 

Johnny has gotten Taeil up on the table with him. Taeil is clutching on to Johnny's arm with one hand, the other hiding his face. Kun glances at Ten through the corner of his eyes, notices the blank expression on his face.

They catch Johnny’s eye. Johnny waves at them, gestures at them to come inside. Kun and Ten share a look and Ten moves first, walking to the sliding doors and pulling them open. He looks back at Kun, raises his eyebrow. There is a knowing smile on his face. What does he know? Kun wants to know. He breaks out of his momentary daze and follows Ten inside.

  
  


“Do I have everyone’s attention?” Johnny shouts. “I want all eyes on me!”

Taeil tugs on Johnny’s arm. “They already are, Youngho,” he says. 

Johnny looks down at his boyfriend with hooded eyes. “Even yours?” he asks.

Taeil rolls his eyes but smiles fondly at Johnny. “Especially mine,” he says. He tugs his boyfriend closer. “Now get me down.” 

“Not yet,” Johnny says and swiftly pecks Taeil’s lips before he can protest. They look at each other for a moment before Johnny snakes his arm around Taeil’s waist, holds him close, and kisses him deeply. 

There’s drunken cheering. In the back, Kun is only half paying attention to Johnny, because the other half of his attention is being consumed by Ten standing beside him. 

Ten had complained about how hot it was as soon as he had stepped a foot inside the room. He had then immediately taken his eyesore of a jacket off and slung it artfully over one shoulder. Except it left him in a sleeveless top, and once Kun caught sight of the tattoo on his arm, he was entranced. 

“Do you have an answer for me yet, or are you just struck by my beauty?” Ten smirks, not looking at Kun, but shifting closer so his bare arm brushes against Kun’s. Either Ten doesn’t understand the concept of personal space, or he is doing this deliberately to rile Kun up.

He immediately looks away, making Ten chuckle. “I’m guessing the latter,” Ten says smoothly. Kun does not reply. 

“I have an extremely important announcement to make,” Johnny calls out and Kun turns his attention to Johnny’s blinding smiling, relieved to focus on something other than the point of contact between his and Ten’s bodies.

“First, I want to thank you all for coming," Johnny says. "Now, let me tell you about my lovely boyfriend, Taeil."

Taeil's cheeks glow a pretty pink under the lamplight. "Youngho… just tell them the thing," he whines almost petulantly.

"But I want them to know how fabulous you are, baby," Johnny starts, but Taeil reaches up to press his palm against Johnny’s mouth.

“Youngho and I are engaged,” he states. 

Cheers erupt. Kun’s mouth falls open. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the empty wine glass nearly slipping out of Ten’s grasp.

“Aww, babe!” Johnny’s protest is muffled by Taeil’s hand. 

Taeil smiles at him and moves his hand so it cups Johnny’s cheek. “And we’re getting off the table now.” 

Johnny sighs and jumps down. He extends a hand to help Taeil down and swiftly scoops him into his arms. Taeil yelps but wraps his arms around Johnny’s neck, and holds on tight as Johnny turns around to face his guests.

“You heard him,” Johnny shouts. “We’re getting married!” Taeil kisses Johnny then and there is more clapping and cheering.

“I need a drink,” Kun mumbles to himself.

“Funny,” he hears Ten say. “I agree.”

They share a look. Kun can’t read Ten’s face, but something about his expression seems so familiar—Kun reels, as if seeing his own reflection do something he is not doing.

“Why is that funny?” Kun asks, feeling the need to fill up the invisible bubble he has found himself in with Ten with words. A niggling voice in Kun’s head wonders how it is so easy for Kun to lose track of time and space around Ten. And he has barely just met the man.

“So many questions, not enough answers.” Ten sighs. “Are you always this exasperating?”

“You’ll have to find out,” Kun deadpans.

Ten narrows his eyes at him. “Are you flirting with me?”

“What do you think?”

Ten huffs, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Better yet—do you want me to flirt with you?” Kun asks, triumphant, finally feeling like he has the upper hand in the conversation. 

“You’ll have to find out,” Ten throws Kun’s words back in his face, the corners of his mouth curling daintily into a smug smile as he turns to him, invades his personal space some more.

Kun has to make a conscious effort to not gulp as Ten’s chest nearly brushes his. Kun’s eyes flick to Ten’s lips for a nanosecond, before he looks into Ten’s eyes.

He was not fast enough, because Ten’s grin is sharp now, eyes hooded, more snake than cat. Kun is hopelessly drawn to him.

“There’s this bar I know,” Kun starts. Pauses to gauge Ten’s reaction—Ten cocks his head imperceptibly, and Kun thinks, _no, cat_ —and continues, “If you want to find out what I want to find out.”

Ten smirks. “Right answer.”

He grabs Kun’s arm and heads towards the door.

“Hey, shouldn’t we at least say bye to Johnny and Taeil?” Kun asks, startled. Ten’s palm slides down his arm and circles his wrist. The touch is scalding. Or maybe it’s just Kun’s imagination.

Out on the street, Ten drops his wrist and shoots him an incredulous look. “You and I _both_ know they must be fucking already,” he sneers. “Didn’t you see that look in Johnny’s eyes?”

Kun colours dully. He _does_ know and he _did_ see. After all, he used to be on the receiving end of Johnny’s sultry looks at parties just a few months ago that always, _always_ led to sex. He shakes his head lightly to dispel the memories and hails a taxi. 

He opens the taxi door for Ten who raises his eyebrows at him and smirks mildly as he gets in the car. Kun follows him in and states the destination.

“You call that chivalry or conditioning?” Ten asks.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Kun counters.

Ten laughs lightly. “Really defensive, aren’t you?”

“What does your psychoanalysis tell you?”

Ten smiles at that. “You’re annoying and I want to get you drunk so you may stop being annoying.”

Kun can’t help but bark out a laugh. “How do you know I won’t be even more annoying once I’m drunk—if I get drunk in the first place?”

“You just seem the type that loosens up with alcohol,” Ten says.

“But you seem the type to be an annoying drunk,” Kun huffs, but the corners of his lips twitch, threatening to curl up in a smile.

“You’ll find out,” Ten holds his gaze. They share a smile and look out the windows on their side. 

The clouds have parted to let a tiny star twinkle in the night sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s play Truth or Dare,” Ten says. He looks excited as if this is the Eureka! moment of his life. 
> 
> “What?” Kun scoffs. “How old are you?”
> 
> “Hey!” Ten takes offence. “Truth or Dare is for everyone, what are you talking about?”
> 
> Kun tries hard not to smile. Riling Ten up is fun.

Kun watches Ten peruse the fancy menu over the top of his own hard-bound menu card which could pass for a coffee-table book. He knows what he wants to drink already, so he doesn’t need to go through the extensive list of options the bar has to offer.

Ten frowns in concentration, diligently reading the name of every dish and drink listed. Kun doesn’t mean to—or want to—stare at him, but he can’t help but take in the sight of Ten under the warm mood lighting. His freshly-reapplied kohl looks darker, but Ten looks softer around the edges, glowing, almost. If Kun was drunk, he’d have wondered whether Ten was a figment of his imagination.

It feels strange to sit opposite Ten at his usual semi-circular booth, with the backlit wall containing a multitude of devil’s ivy in little glass bottles to his left, a blur of green in the periphery of his eye-line. 

He has only ever visited this bar alone, often late at night to grab a bite to eat, a beer to drink, and chat with the owner, Sicheng, who goes by Winwin when he bartends on weekends. Kun is glad it’s not the weekend, because Sicheng would not hesitate to grill him about Ten. Kun never brought a date, or even a girlfriend or boyfriend to the bar. Not even Johnny who had to be the chillest person Kun had dated. Then again, their relationship had grown and fizzled out somewhere between clubbing, coffee dates, and their bedsheets.

“You’re staring again,” Ten observes. “I know I’m gorgeous but thanks for the validation, anyway.”

“Just wondering how much longer you’ll take to select a drink,” Kun retorts. 

“Oh, I know my order already, I’ve been to this place a couple times,” Ten says, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “I just thought I’d give you time to stare to your heart’s content.”

Kun’s mind whirrs with the possibility of Sicheng knowing Ten. He expects annoyance to bubble in his chest for losing something he has come to see as _his,_ but it never happens. Nonetheless, he has no answer except a mild frown.

“What would you like to drink?” Kun asks.

“Tequila,” Ten states. “Two shots.”

Huh. That’s what Kun wants as well.

“And a basket of cheese fries,” Ten adds. 

“You’re hungry?” Kun asks.

“Not really,” Ten says, looking at his nails. “It just feels like a cheese fries kind of night,” he adds, looking up at Kun. “Don’t you think so?” His expression is unreadable. As if he is looking at Kun but seeing someone else, or nobody at all.

“Sure,” Kun shrugs. “I’ll go order, then. You want anything else?”

“Just answers,” Ten says triumphantly, the light back in his eyes.

Kun rolls his eyes. “You better think up better questions to ask, then.” Saying so, he gets up and goes to place his order. 

  
  


“Let’s play Truth or Dare,” Ten says as Kun comes back to his seat. He looks excited as if this is the Eureka! moment of his life. 

“What?” Kun scoffs. “How old are you?”

“Hey!” Ten takes offence. “Truth or Dare is for everyone, what are you talking about?”

Kun tries hard not to smile. Riling Ten up is fun. Watching him narrow his eyes at Kun is fun. He just looks like an angry kitten and Kun resists the urge to reach out and pat Ten’s fluffy hair. Ten wouldn’t hesitate to scratch him, he is certain.

“Alright,” Kun pacifies him. “But let’s make it Truth only. I don’t trust you to _not_ humiliate me with your dares.”

“Ah!” Ten smiles. “But you trust I won’t ask humiliating questions which you can’t lie to?”

“I didn’t say that...” Kun trails off. Fuck. He got too carried away.

“Don’t worry,” Ten drawls. “You can choose to pass the question if you don’t want to answer.”

“Very generous of you,” Kun comments. He still doesn’t trust Ten. 

“Oh yes, I’m generous like that,” Ten chimes.

Before Kun can retort, the server comes over and places their shot glasses in front of them and the basket of fries in the centre of the table. Ten picks up one of the shot glasses and holds it out. Kun picks up his own glass and hesitantly clinks it against Ten’s glass.

Ten smirks. “To honesty!” he says and flicks his tongue out to lick the salt around the rim of the glass and quickly downs the liquor. Kun nods and mirrors his actions, but as he reaches for the lemon wedge, Ten has skipped it and already moved on to his second shot. Kun sucks on his lemon wedge, watches Ten down the shot, and place the glass on the table, looking immensely satisfied.

“Hi, excuse me!” Ten waves and catches the eye of a server who comes over immediately. “Two more shots, please,” he says and adds, “Thank you!” with a charming smile.

He turns his attention to Kun. “I’ll go first,” he states, rather than asks, and picks up a fork to stab two fries dripping with cheese. Eyes closed, he elegantly closes his lips around the fries and pulls them into his mouth using his teeth. He chews thoughtfully and makes a sound of appreciation. Opening his eyes to fix them on Kun, he flicks his tongue out to lick the cheese smeared against the corner of his lips.

Kun gulps down his second shot without licking the salt and nearly coughs at the strong burn of the liquor. He’s going to die by the end of the night and it’ll be all because of Ten.

“So, when did you and Johnny break up?” Ten asks nonchalantly, stabbing some more fries.

Correction: Kun is going to die within the next few minutes at this rate. He grabs a tissue and coughs into it. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. He surreptitiously blinks them away, grabbing a fork to have some fries. Ten’s fork clangs against his.

“These are mine,” Ten glares at him.

“Oh, uh—” Kun starts, but is interrupted by Ten’s laughter. 

“I’m kidding,” he says. “Have as much as you like, I got it for both of us.”

Kun feels out of his depth with Ten. Like he took a running dive into a pool but landed hard on his stomach. The shock and confusion are greater than the pain. He reaches out for the fries and munches on them slowly, trying to get his heartbeat under control.

“So?” Ten prompts.

Right. “Four months ago,” Kun says, softly.

“Why?” Ten asks immediately.

“None of your business,” Kun retorts. 

“Rude,” Ten says, but he is smiling. “There’s no need to get defensive, I told you you can just pass the question if you’re not comfortable answering it.”

“Well, pass, then,” Kun grouses. It feels like a defeat. “Besides, it’s my turn now,” he adds.

“Ask away,” Ten says as if he is doing Kun a favour.

The server returns with Ten’s tequila shots and Kun uses that time to wonder how he can ask Ten what he wants to ask him, what has been on his mind since he encountered Ten a couple hours ago. Meanwhile, Ten wastes no time in downing the liquor.

“Did Johnny really leave you for me?” Kun blurts. 

Cheeks pinkened because of the alcohol, Ten frowns at Kun, unconsciously pulling his shoulders up defensively. “Oh, that’d make you happy, wouldn’t it?” Ten asks, slurring the end of the sentence faintly.

Irritation flares up in Kun. “Either answer or pass. No counter-questions,” he says curtly.

“Fine,” Ten mumbles. “No, he didn’t.”

“Then why did you say he did?” Kun questions him immediately.

“Ah, ah,” Ten wags his index finger at Kun. “My turn.”

Kun huffs and aggressively stabs four fries together and shoves them in his mouth. Fuck being refined and eating properly. Kun is feeling too agitated for that.

“Did Johnny ever talk about me?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

Kun shoots him a look and Ten rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he mutters, and waves at the server again, a blinding smile on his face. “More shots, please!” he calls out. “Four!”

“Ten,” Kun pleads. “I think you should slow down.”

“It’s for both of us, don’t worry,” Ten grins. “And stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Kun sighs. Ten is clearly tipsy even though he holds himself well, looking completely sober if a little pink. Ten notices the concerned look on Kun’s face and says cheerily, “C’mon, it’s your turn, right?”

“Why did you say Johnny left you for me?”

The server places two shot glasses in front of Ten and two in front of Kun. Ten gathers the salt off of the rim of one glass with his index finger and licks it.

“Because it felt like that,” he answers. “To me.” He downs the shot, and then the other one. “What did Johnny tell you?” he slurs.

“That you’re his best friend,” Kun answers, and downs a shot. He feels the burn in his throat but does not reach for a lemon wedge. “He said you’re a menace but people can’t help but love you,” he adds softly, kindly.

“Thanks,” Ten says, equally softly. Unless Kun’s eyes are playing tricks on him, there’s a film of tears in Ten’s eyes, as he stares at the devil’s ivy. There’s something fragile, something vulnerable about this Ten, and Kun feels a pang in his heart. He pushes down his nurturing instinct telling him he needs to protect Ten. He doubts Ten actually needs protection; he seems lethal enough.

As if having heard his thoughts, Ten turns to him with a steely look on his face. “I want Johnny back. Let’s break him and Taeil up.”

Kun nearly chokes while downing his drink. Coughing hard, he reaches blindly for the tissues, his eyes, nose, and throat burning equally. Ten passes the tissue to him and Kun steadies himself, breathes in and out deeply.

“What the fuck!” he sputters. “Are you serious?”

“I could be,” Ten says, resting his chin on his open palm, looking utterly innocent as if he didn’t just suggest orchestrating a break-up between an engaged couple.

“I will not be a party to this,” Kun states. 

“Think about it,” Ten says. “I’m sure you aren’t happy either that he moved on so quickly from you.”

“What—no! Fuck you—no!”

Ten has the audacity to sigh. “Oh well, it was worth a try.”

Kun blinks, stares at Ten for a moment. Ten’s blank facade cracks and he bursts out laughing.

“You were joking,” Kun deadpans, still reeling from the whiplash.

Ten clicks his tongue. “Of course I was, what do you take me for?”

Kun opens his mouth to retort but Ten cuts him off. “No, don’t answer that, I’m sure it’s nothing nice.” 

That makes Kun huff out a laugh. He doesn’t want to, but what can he do? Ten is so unpredictable, so _exciting_ , even though he seems utterly unhinged.

“Huh, you have dimples,” Ten observes. Kun stops smiling immediately.

“Anyway,” Kun starts but doesn’t know where to go with it. Fortunately—or unfortunately—Ten knows how to take it forward.

“Okay, morality and ethics aside,” Ten begins, leaning a little forward, clearly in his element. “Can’t you at least imagine the scenario? Us, teaming up together to break up Johnny and Taeil.”

“I think you’ve seen My Best Friend’s Wedding one too many times—” Kun states.

“Right! I’d be Julia Roberts, of course,” Ten chimes in excitedly.

“—but not enough times to know that it doesn’t end well for Julia Roberts,” Kun says.

“And you can be my gay best friend,” Ten continues, ignoring Kun’s previous statement.

“I’m bi, not gay,” Kun tells him, beginning to enjoy the repartee. He can see why Ten seems to like it so much.

Ten sticks his tongue out at him. “You didn’t deny being my best friend,” he crows.

“Denying the prefix automatically made the suffix null and void,” Kun retorts.

Ten just sticks out his tongue once again. “Aah, I’m drunk, this is making my brain hurt,” he declares and flops sideways onto the booth. 

“You need to hydrate,” Kun tells him. “C’mon, sit up.”

“Nooo,” Ten whines. “This feels nice. Come here, I can’t see you.”

“Ten,” Kun sighs. “Sit up, please.”

Ten sits up and drinks the water Kun offers him and flops down again. 

“Ten…” 

“C’mon, shift closer,” Ten calls out. “I want to see you.”

Kun sighs again and shifts to the inside of the booth. Ten wiggles his way over and pillows his head on Kun’s thigh. “Mm, this feels better,” he mumbles, then looks up. Kun’s upside-down face makes him giggle. “Hi,” he says.

Kun can’t even be mad about the breach of personal space. It does feel good. “The tequila really hit hard, hm?” he smiles. 

Ten smiles a blinding smile back. He reaches up and gently pokes Kun’s dimple. “You’re cute,” he slurs, voice tinged with awe. 

Kun can’t help it anymore—the protective feeling bubbles in his chest, mixed with a giddy sort of happiness. Kun wants to believe it’s mostly the alcohol and not Ten. But he knows he is lying to himself.

His hand seems to have developed a mind of its own and Kun finds himself brushing an errant lock of Ten’s hair falling into his eyes to the side. Ten’s eyes flutter close before he opens them fully to gaze up at Kun. His eyes don’t look as hazy as Kun expected them to.

“I called you cute,” Ten says lightly.

“You did,” Kun replies.

“Isn’t it good manners to return the compliment?” Ten snarks, an eyebrow raised in mischief. “Did nobody teach you?”

“Did you compliment me only so I’d compliment you back?” Kun retorts, but there is no heat in his voice. He feels relaxed, mellow, the tequila making his bones feel loose, while Ten makes his heart soar and somersault.

“No, I complimented you because I wanted to,” Ten says, eyes hooded. “I stated a fact.”

“Then why are you fishing for compliments?”

Ten clicks his tongue. “Because—just state a fact back. Tell me I’m cute,” he huffs.

“Why do you need me to tell you something you already know?” Kun smirks, knowing he is veering into unknown, uncharted, dangerous territory. 

“You’re so annoying, just do as I say,” Ten says, his lips jutting out into a pout.

 _Fuck, he’s so fucking cute,_ Kun thinks. Out loud he says, “And what will you do if I do as you say?”

“Do it and I’ll tell you,” Ten whispers.

“You’re cute,” Kun exhales. It’s like he kept a hand on Hutong’s belly and it’s now up to Hutong to either let him pet her or to scratch at him and bite his hand.

Ten closes his eyes, smiles blissfully. “Ask me the first thing that comes to mind,” he says. 

Kun frowns. “What about my reward?”

“Who said anything about a reward?” 

“You play dirty, Ten,” Kun huffs, crossing his arms against his chest.

“C’mon, indulge me one last time. Your reward depends on the question you ask,” Ten drawls, snuggling harder into Kun’s thigh, making him blush.

“Then, in your scenario,” Kun starts. “Do we have the last dance?”

Ten sits up suddenly, straightens so he is facing Kun. “If you want to,” he breathes, chews on his lower lip.

Kun holds Ten’s gaze for a heartbeat before his traitorous eyes flick to Ten’s lips and he has to force them back up. Ten surges forward and presses his lips against Kun’s, and pulls back equally swiftly.

This time, they both lean forward at the same time, sharing short pecks before Ten closes his lips around Kun’s lower lip and tugs on it with his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue. Kun’s hand comes up to cup Ten’s cheek, holding him steady so he can kiss him deeply. The feeling of Kun’s tongue sliding alongside his makes Ten whine.

He breaks the kiss to catch a breath. “Why the fuck do you look so put together,” he grumbles before throwing his arms around Kun’s neck and attaching his lips to Kun’s again. Ten lets his hand travel up into Kun’s hair and grabs a fistful and tugs gently once, before tugging harder. It makes Kun groan and pull away, cheeks tinted pink.

“Oh? You like that, hm?” Ten smirks. Kun snakes his arms around Ten’s waist to pull him closer in lieu of an answer and kisses him again. They lose track of the time as they lose themselves in each other, trading kisses, Ten’s fingers carding through Kun’s hair while Kun caresses Ten’s back.

They pull away, panting, but their arms remain around each other. Ten inhales and exhales. “My place or yours?” he smirks.

“Huh?” Kun pulls back further, to look at Ten properly.

Ten rolls his eyes. “Keep up, Kun. I asked whether you want to go to my place—”

“No—” Kun cuts in.

“Fine, alright,” Ten says with a smile. “We can go to your place.”

“No, listen, Ten—” Kun says, voice small, pulling off Ten’s arms from around his neck and putting some distance between them. “We can’t do this, I’m sorry, I just—”

Ten’s eyes go cold immediately. “No need to explain.”

“Ten…” Kun trails off, unsure what to say or do.

“Save it,” Ten says curtly. He stands up, smoothens his clothes, and stumbles out of the booth.

“Ten, please listen—” Kun tries again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for my share,” Ten states. He throws a look at Kun; his face is impassive, but there’s a storm brewing in his eyes. 

Feeling utterly defeated, Kun watches him go to the counter to pay, before he stalks out of the bar, and out of Kun’s life. Perhaps this was the storm the clouds had been indicating all night. Kun slumps forward, rests his head against the cool plastic of the table.

“Fuck…” he exhales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hi! Thank you for reading! I hope this chapter did justice to the first one. Do let me know!
> 
> My [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/gummieistrying); my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/gummieistrying).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s only been two weeks since Kun last saw Ten, yet it feels like an eternity. The thin, black circle frames coupled with the mess of wavy black hair and the pearl teardrop earrings make Ten look like a different person altogether. Ten’s gaze is sharp even through the glasses but Kun can’t help but add another adjective for Ten in his mind besides Alluring and Annoying: Adorable.
> 
> “We’ve established you find me stunning, Qian Kun,” Ten states, rolling his eyes. “But if you could either order or get out? That’d be nice.”

Eyes closed, Kun hits play with a click of his mouse and lets the beats thump in his ears via his fancy noise-cancelling headphones. He minutely nods his head along, letting the instrumental overtake his senses, as he plays an invisible drum with his hands before transitioning to an electric guitar. As the music comes to an end, Kun ends his impromptu concert with the flourish of an orchestra conductor. He takes his earphones off and sighs.

The track needs some minor fine-tuning before it can be presented to the client. But it is sounding much better than it did before Kun came to the studio at 1 a.m., hit by a sudden bout of inspiration as he dreamed lucidly in bed for about an hour. Kun knew that anything less than working on the track immediately would make the delicate notes disappear from his head forever. So he had called a cab instead of walking the twenty-five-minute distance from his apartment to the studio.

Kun cracks his knuckles, stretches his arms, and massages his shoulders one by one, then tries to open his eyes. Except, the exhaustion from the lack of sleep and the sticky gunk gathered in his eyes has made his eyelids stick together. He rubs at the corners of his eyes, pulls at the skin under his eyes so his eyelids are forced to part, and opens his eyes wide, and blinks a few times. An involuntary yawn escapes his mouth and a quick glance at his phone makes him realize that it is nearly 6:30 a.m.

Using the arms of his chair for support, Kun stands up. His knees nearly buckle and his ass hurts from sitting in the chair for too long. Shaking his head, Kun saves his work and turns the system off. Gently stretching and bending his body a little, Kun feels a little of the stiffness leave his body, but dizzily realizes that he hasn’t eaten anything in hours—he had forgotten to have dinner, choosing instead to go to bed at 12 a.m.—and now here he is, feeling like he is about to keel over.

Kun trudges out of the studio, stifling a yawn. He squints at the faint early morning sunlight as his mind runs through the places he can eat at or order from—it’s too early for most of them to be open, and the ones that would be open are too far away. He sighs and immediately regrets it as his stomach rumbles, loudly and painfully. He clutches at it, presses his palm into his abdomen hard, and wonders whether he would be able to go home and whip up a quick meal; he doubts it. He’ll either die before he reaches home, or he’ll just go to bed without eating because he’s  _ that _ exhausted. 

He walks down the path in a daze. This must be what the early hunter-gatherers felt like while foraging for food. Are hunter-gatherers Homo Sapiens? Or did they exist before mankind evolved to Homo Sapiens? Kun really needs to make a list of all these questions so he can look up the answers sometime. For now, the food deities seem to have taken pity on him: he spots a board for a cafe directing him to the left into a lane. 

The path to the cafe is a bit of an uphill climb but Kun perseveres. The thought of treating himself to something sweet spurs him on. Before he knows it, he finds himself in front of the cafe. The exterior with its alcoved paneled wood and glass door and the hanging flower pots on each side gives off a friendly, welcoming vibe. Kun peeks inside through the glass—the sign says ‘Open’ but the cafe looks empty. He pushes at the door gently, and then with more force. A little bell jangles as the door opens. 

Kun steps inside. Immediately, a warm, spicy scent hits his nose. He is too tired to pick out the different notes in the scent, but breathing it in deeply soothes him. He sighs happily and looks around. The walls are a mix of exposed brick and floral wallpapers and the furniture is wooden. A large window lets in light, giving the interiors a soft, hazy glow. It feels so cozy, Kun could easily fall asleep here.

Deciding to wait a few minutes, Kun takes a seat at one of the tables closer to the window, with his back facing the door. The chair is more comfortable than it looks and he feels himself for the first time that week. He is satisfied with the track; all he needs now is something to eat and a strong coffee to wash it down, then he’ll be able to go home and sleep to his heart’s content. It’s a Sunday, after all.

The bell jangles as the door opens. Kun hears, “Oh hey, I’ll take your order in a minute!” in a pleasant, lilting voice before he spots the blur of a man disappearing into a room behind the counter. There’s something familiar about the cadence, and the way the words are shaped as if ending in a smile.

The man steps out, having put on a cream coloured apron—the large pocket in the middle patterned the same as the floral wallpaper—on top of his cotton sweater with the sleeves pulled up and bunched about his elbows. He walks to the register, looking down. Kun can see him wiping the lenses of his glasses using a corner of his sweater.

“Sorry for the wait. I went to feed the stray cats,” the man says, putting on the glasses and sending a dazzling smile Kun’s way before it falls, as if pulled down by the force of gravity. He wonders whether his exhausted brain is playing tricks on him; he hopes he is hallucinating, and the man glaring daggers at him isn’t Ten.

“You,” Ten spits, a hint of venom in his voice. Well, that answers Kun’s question—it  _is_ Ten.

It’s only been two weeks since Kun last saw Ten, yet it feels like an eternity. The thin, black circle frames coupled with the mess of wavy black hair and the pearl teardrop earrings make Ten look like a different person altogether. Ten’s gaze is sharp even through the glasses but Kun can’t help but add another adjective for Ten in his mind besides Alluring and Annoying:  _Adorable._

“We’ve established you find me stunning, Qian Kun,” Ten states, rolling his eyes. “But if you could either order or get out? That’d be nice.”

Kun wordlessly gets up and walks to the counter. He spends a minute trying to concentrate on the overhead menu instead of Ten’s face. He can hear Ten tapping his foot impatiently. 

“Well?” Ten prods.

“Um, a mocha. And a cheese croissant,” Kun blurts out. It’s what his eyes zeroed in on.

“The viennoiserie will be delivered at 7—” Ten glances at his wristwatch. “So, in about 20 minutes.”

“I can wait,” Kun says. He wants to. Needs to.

“You can pay after, then. I’ll start on your mocha.”

Kun nods but stays rooted to his spot. There’s a jumble of words in his brain, which his tongue tries to untangle. “Listen—” he manages to say. “Um, make it a black coffee, please.”

Ten raises an eyebrow as he snaps on a pair of gloves. “Okay. Anything else?”

“No,” Kun says. “No, wait—um, would a mocha be better?” His head has begun to throb.

“For you? Or in general?” 

“Uh. Um. I—I think I’ll go with the black coffee. Thanks.” 

“You sure?” Ten asks.

“Yes, um. Sorry,” Kun tries to fight off a yawn but succumbs to it. “I’m just—sleepy.”

“And you want more caffeine?”

“Yeah,” Kun yawns again. There’s a sleep-induced haze in front of his eyes which he tries to rub away. “Need to walk home.”

“Right,” Ten says. “Have a seat, I’ll bring you your coffee.”

“Listen, can we talk?” Kun asks and bites his lower lip. He feels as if he has no control over his body anymore.

“Have a seat, Kun.” Ten’s tone has a finality to it that Kun does not wish to test. 

He quietly goes and sits at his table. Gazing at Ten—however much he wishes to—is not an option, so he looks out the window. There’s something magical about the view of the city coming to life even on a Sunday morning. Closing his eyes, Kun concentrates on the melange of sounds filtering in through the window. For all the music in the world, Kun enjoys listening to the sound of nature coexisting with humans and their creations the most.

Thoughts idly run through his mind as he leans forward, resting his chin on his arms. He should visit the cafe again, for one. It looks like the ideal place to peacefully get some work done when the studio feels too stifling. Although, Ten might not want him around again. He frowns. He should apologize. But how? 

As Kun’s mind meanders through the list of ways in which he could apologize to Ten, the sounds begin to fade away. The colourful lights dancing in the back of his eyelids dim down until only darkness remains.

Suddenly, his eyes fly open. All he can see is black. He tries to move his head around but finds that he cannot. He has no idea where his limbs are. He feels as if he has been physically restrained. There’s a sudden flash of light and Kun realizes that his body is trapped in a tree, his face stuck in the hollow. All around him is a void and he can only move his eyes. They open wide in horror as a woodpecker lands just below his chin. 

As if in slow motion, Kun sees its beak looming, about to pierce his eyeball. But it lands softly against his cheekbone instead, once, then thrice in succession. Kun is puzzled. Why doesn’t it hurt? 

“Kun.” 

The tapping becomes insistent, incessant.

“Hey, Kun.”

Kun can smell something heady and something soft and minty? Kun frowns.

Something digs hard into the dimple on his cheek so much so that the inside of his cheek rubs painfully against his molar. Kun groans and cracks an eye open to see a Ten-shaped blur pulling its hand back and moving out of the line of Kun’s eyesight. 

Kun startles, blinking away the cloudy haze in his eyes. Straightening up, he swallows the saliva that has pooled in his mouth—he tends to drool when he falls into an exhaustion-induced slumber. 

There’s embarrassment brewing in his chest, tinting his cheeks pink. Ten places a glass teacup full of steaming hot not-coffee in front of him and seats himself opposite him, all the while assessing him critically.

“I took the liberty of brewing you peppermint tea,” Ten says.

“Oh. Is that your polite way of telling me I need to brush my teeth?” Kun snarks and nearly hits himself. Now Ten will stalk away again and—

“I wish that was my reason for making peppermint tea for you,” Ten scoffs, rolling his eyes. “But it’s not.” The sunbeam makes Ten’s glasses glint. “You shouldn’t be having black coffee when you look like you’re seconds away from dying.”

Kun makes an O shape with his mouth. What can he say? He is touched, but Ten would read his gratitude as sarcasm. So he quietly, hesitantly picks up the teacup and takes a sip of the steaming, aromatic liquid. He blinks. Sips some more of the tea. It is somehow both refreshing and soothing.

“So good,” Kun sighs blissfully, eager to have more of the tea, but careful not to scald his tongue. He sneaks a look at Ten surreptitiously and catches him smiling, his lips upturned as gently as his eyes are curved into crescents. The smile lasts on Ten’s face only for a second but Kun feels like he’s been dropped into the ocean tied to an anchor.

“Thank you,” Kun says. He hopes Ten can hear the sincerity in his voice. 

“Hm, hm,” Ten hums nonchalantly. “Did you stalk me here?”

Kun chokes on his tea and coughs hard. Ten sighs and passes him a tissue. Kun wipes his mouth and uses the other side of the tissue to dab at his eyes.

“Do you always choke on your drinks, or…?” Ten questions.

“I didn’t stalk you here, what the fuck!” Kun sputters. He gulps the tea to calm himself down, but it’s still too hot and he regrets it immediately.

“I see, still high-strung as ever,” Ten observes, leaning forward to steeple his fingers and rest his chin on them.

“I’m really not,” Kun says sullenly. “You stress me out,” he adds. He shouldn’t have, he realizes, as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Lewis Carroll probably used Ten in another lifetime as a reference for the Cheshire Cat, what with the maniacal way he is grinning.

“Ah, so have you willingly given me this power over you?” Ten taunts. “Or do you feel I took it from you?”

“I didn’t stalk you, Ten.” Kun is too tired for Ten’s riddles. “I didn’t even know you worked here.”

“I don’t.”

“You own the cafe?”

“I don’t.”

Kun frowns. He certainly carried himself as if he owned the place. Then again, that is probably just Ten being  _Ten_ . Kun wants to ask him about why he is manning a cafe he neither owns nor works at, but doesn’t want to give Ten the satisfaction of his curiosity.

“I can see you are intrigued, Kun,” Ten teases. Kun shoots him a glare and ignores him.

“The cafe belongs to my friend, Taeyong. His roommate, Yuta, helps him run it, and he is sick. So I offered to take over until noon so Tae can fuss over him in peace,” Ten says.

That’s kind of Ten, Kun thinks, but what he says is, “You told me this so I’d think highly of you, hm? Are you trying to impress me?” 

Ten’s expression turns to stone, eyes cold. He stands up and brushes past Kun, his Doc Martens noisy on the wood flooring. Suddenly, he stops and glares at Kun and Kun realizes that he has grabbed Ten’s hand in panic. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out and drops Ten’s hand.

“For what?”

“For—for being rude. And for back then as well…” Kun trails off.

“I don’t need your pity apology, Kun,” Ten states.

Kun stands up as well. “No, listen, if I knew how to contact you, I’d have apologized sooner. I’m really sorry, Ten.”

Ten crosses his arms. “Do you even know what you are apologizing for?”

“For hurting your feelings,” Kun says quietly.

“You didn’t hurt my feelings, Kun. Your rejection isn’t going to make me any less attractive or make me feel less confident about myself,” Ten scoffs.

“I’m sorry,” Kun repeats, then lets his tongue run away. “Why did you walk out?”

Ten holds his gaze for a long moment, so much so that Kun begins to feel a little uncomfortable. He gets a respite when Ten sighs and uncrosses his arms, letting them hang loose at his sides.

“You hurt my ego, Kun,” Ten says softly.

“I—” Kun starts, but the bell jangling as the door opens, signalling someone’s entry distracts Ten. He goes to attend to it, and Kun turns to the leftover peppermint tea—tea that Ten made specially for Kun—and gulps the last of the now-cold brew down. He feels awake now but wants to go to bed more than ever just so he can turn off his thoughts as he sleeps.

“Would you like to have your croissant here?” Ten calls out.

Kun makes his way over to the counter. “To go, please,” he says.

Ten packs his cheese croissant in a cute little box and tells him the amount he needs to pay.

Kun frowns. “That’s just the croissant. What about the tea?”

Ten doesn’t look up from the register as he says, “It’s on the house.”

“What?” Kun is puzzled. “Why?”

“You didn’t ask for it. I made it for you of my own volition.”

“But—I really enjoyed it. I can’t  _not_ pay for it,” Kun argues.

“You can pay for it by giving Tae’s cafe your patronage,” Ten states, looking Kun in the eye to make sure he knows there are no further arguments to be made or had.

He really is kind, Kun thinks. Says, “You’re really kind.”

Ten looks down to hide his blush, but Kun catches it anyway. “Will you be here when I visit again?” he asks.

“You’ll have to find out,” Ten smirks.

Kun can live with that. He pays for the croissant, takes the box and the receipt from Ten, and walks to the door. He wants to steal a glance at Ten, but doesn’t, lest he catch the smile on Kun’s face.

The bell jangles again as Kun shuts the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went here, there, everywhere before I managed to reach a place of personal satisfaction with this chapter. Do let me know what you think about it!
> 
> My [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/gummieistrying); my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/gummieistrying).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you two come here together or…” Johnny trails off.
> 
> Ten smiles an angelic smile, but Kun can see the invisible devil horns peeking out of the wavy mess of Ten’s hair. “Oh, no,” Ten says lightly. “I came to buy mugs and Kun stalked me here.”

Strolling through the Linens aisle, unconsciously humming along with the stupidly upbeat pop song blaring over the speakers, Kun expertly dodges the unruly children scampering about while their parents argue over the pattern of a towel. As he stops to peruse hand towel sets, Kun feels like a fully functional human being. Deciding between the warm reds and the cool blues, and going instead with the muted greys makes him feel like an adult—an adult who chooses dull shades to match the pre-furnished kitchen in his apartment. After ages of being a sleep-deprived zombie, Kun is finally alive.

“Ooh, a homewrecker in the Home Furnishings department!”

Kun wishes he were dead. The squabbling parents give Kun dirty looks and immediately herd their children and drag them out of the aisle. He has heard the voice enough by now to know that it is Ten, and whips his head to glare at Ten’s smirking face as his own flames with both anger and embarrassment.

“What do you want, Ten,” he spits out.

Ten’s hair is still black, still wavy, still falling over his eyes—even more so because he does not have his glasses on. It’s only been a day since he last saw Ten at the cafe, but Kun is glad he doesn’t have to feel the whiplash of a Ten with freshly-dyed hair and glasses again.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Ten says, sidling up to Kun. “Judging by yesterday, I thought you’d probably have walked into a speeding car and died.”

“You’d have liked that, I suppose,” Kun huffs out, cross. All he wanted was to peacefully shop for essentials for his kitchen, not have to mentally be on guard because Ten was the personification of the fluidity of cats, able to slip into the tiniest crevice in Kun’s mind.

Ten shrugs, a tiny smile playing on his lips. Somehow Kun understands that Ten isn’t actually being mean to him, but he still rolls his eyes. For theatricality. States, “Also, stop calling me a homewrecker.”

“But you always answer to it,” Ten says, winking at Kun, as he pulls the grey hand towel set out of Kun’s hands and replaces it with a set of bright yellow ones. 

“I don’t,” Kun says, frowning at the yellow towels. He keeps the set back in its place and picks up the grey set he had chosen.

“You do. Also, that grey is tragic.”

“It’s not. It matches my kitchen cabinets,” Kun says, walking ahead and away before Ten can pull any more tricks. 

“Then your kitchen is tragic, I suppose,” Ten chirps as he falls in step with Kun.

Kun ignores him and increases his pace, striding towards the Kitchen & Tableware section. Ten catches up to him immediately, his Doc Martens clopping against the floor authoritatively. Does he have multiple pairs of Doc Martens or does he only have this one pair? From what he knows of Ten, Kun thinks it's probably the former and not the latter.

“Are you really going to follow me around?” Kun asks.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I came here to get new mugs,” Ten says, narrowing his eyes at him. 

He brushes past Kun and goes straight to the mugs, making a show of turning his back to Kun as he picks up each mug to check its quality and the pattern printed on it. Kun sighs and turns his sight on the spice jars. His plan for the upcoming weekend is to make seasoning blends at home, so he needs extra containers. 

After a careful inspection of his options and mental process of elimination, Kun settles on a set of small, round, and squat jars.

“Cute,” Ten says right next to his ear and Kun startles, nearly dropping the glass jars and the hand towel set tucked under his arm. Before he can wonder what Ten is referring to, Ten adds, “So you have some taste, after all.”

Oh. The jars. Kun immediately quells the pang of disappointment he feels. He turns to Ten, intent on delivering a scathing retort, but stops short when he spots the mugs Ten is holding by their ears. Kun can see a wide-eyed black cat on one mug, while the other says—

“‘No. 1 Cat?’” Kun reads out aloud. 

Ten glances at his mug and barks out a laugh. “It says ‘Catdad’.”

“Oh,” Kun breathes. “You have cats.” He phrases it like a statement. Because of course, Ten has cats.

“I do,” Ten affirms. “Two. They’re the reason I need new mugs.”

Kun laughs at that. He has always wanted a cat of his own, but he fears not being able to give it the time and care it deserves. It would be unfair to subject the creature to the erratic nature of his job. 

Kun grabs a basket to keep the towel-set and the jars in. Ten surreptitiously puts his own mugs in the basket as well; Kun notices but does not comment on it. They fall in step again as they stroll through the store. Kun needs to pick up a couple more things, and Ten doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get to the checkout counter.

"Do you really think I'm a homewrecker?" Kun ventures.

"You tell me. Are you?" Ten asks, being his annoying cryptic self as per usual.

Kun has to stop himself from rolling his eyes as he answers, "No, I'm not."

"Then there's your answer," Ten states. 

Kun bestows a smile on him. Ten looks momentarily stunned but recovers quickly to slyly observe, "You feed off of validation, huh. Do you really care so much about what people think about you?"

Kun takes his smile back, replaces it with a tight-lipped poker face.

"Thanks for the tea yesterday," Kun says lightly. "Maybe you should have some of it yourself."

"Ooh, you're mean when you're angry. Don't like truth bombs, I see," Ten replies, unaffected.

"Yes, you have me all figured out, don't you?" Kun snaps. He stops walking so Ten pauses as well. They have a silent stare-off, letting the tension simmer.

Ten diffuses it with a, "No, I don't." He looks away then, mumbles, "But I want to."

Kun opens his mouth to reply but his brain is too slow to supply him with words. His exhale is empty, so he shuts his mouth again.

"Oh, look who's here," Ten chimes mischievously, his voice breaking Kun's chain of thought. As if forcefully emerging out of water, Kun looks around, noticing the change in his surroundings. They are standing in the Furniture wing, specifically in the Bedroom section.

He follows Ten's line of sight and spots Johnny and Taeil lying on one of the beds, making out. Ten huffs and stalks over to them. Kun feels obliged to follow, albeit at a hesitant pace.

"Youngho, everyone can see us," Taeil murmurs as he gently pushes Johnny away, but lets his hands remain fisted in Johnny's t-shirt. He presses his cheek into the pillow, eyes fondly tracing his fiancé's face.

"Let them, we're stunning," Johnny smiles and dips in to steal another kiss. Taeil lets him, not averse to fuelling and giving in to Johnny's mild exhibitionism kink.

They keep it chaste. Soft, sweet kisses interspersed with little pecks. It is Taeil who gets impatient and grabs Johnny's face, forcing him to open his mouth so he can taste the strawberry aftertaste of the ice-cream they had shared before coming to the store to buy a new mattress.

"Living your 500 Days Of Summer fantasy, I see," Ten comments. Johnny and Taeil separate with Taeil immediately sitting up. 

“This isn’t an IKEA,” Johnny says, as Taeil pulls on his shirt to make him sit up. 

“Same difference,” Ten drawls.

“But there is a difference,” Johnny insists, looking at Taeil as he speaks. “My _summer_ is going to last forever.” He looks besotted and Taeil smiles warmly at him.

“You don’t know that,” Ten mutters. Johnny is too engrossed in Taeil to have heard him, but Kun, standing behind Ten, does. He realizes the voice in his head uttered the same words and feels like slipping away before anyone notices him.

“Sorry, what?” Johnny looks at Ten, puzzled.

“I said ‘rude to the singles, but okay,’” Ten lies, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Singles?” Johnny asks as he stands up and runs his hands down his t-shirt to smoothen the wrinkles. Then he spots Kun just as Kun takes a couple steps back, ready to bolt. “Oh. Hi, Kun,” he greets, frowning, looking between Kun and Ten.

Kun presses his lips together in a smile that indicates discomfort, but it makes his dimples pop even more, so he knows he can get away with it. As he comes over, hand raised palm-up as a greeting, he has a sudden realization that he hasn’t really spoken to Johnny in months—not to mention, the last time he saw him was nearly a month ago, when he had escaped from Johnny and Taeil’s party without a word, with Ten. _With Ten._ Oh. Johnny’s frown makes sense now.

“Hi, Johnny,” Kun says, because his parents raised him to be polite and decorous. “Taeil.”

Taeil smiles a small smile at him. It makes Kun feel relieved for some strange reason that he does not want to think about any time soon. “How have you been, Kun? I’m sorry we didn’t quite get a chance to talk at the party,” Taeil says.

“Oh. Uh… yes, I—had to rush. Sorry,” Kun fumbles with his words. He did not expect quiet, unassuming Taeil to put him on the spot out of the blue like this. Ten’s perpetual dangerousness might even pale in comparison to Taeil’s sneak attack.

“Did you two come here together or…” Johnny trails off, inadvertently saving Kun. He addresses both Kun and Ten, but he is looking only at Ten—the best-friends having a silent, telepathic conversation, apparently.

Ten smiles an angelic smile, but Kun can see the invisible devil horns peeking out of the wavy mess of Ten’s hair. “Oh, no,” Ten says lightly. “I came to buy mugs and Kun stalked me here.”

“I did not!” Kun sputters. 

“He just can’t handle rejection. You probably know already, don’t you?” Ten speaks over him, directing the question at Johnny.

“Fuck you, it’s probably the other way round,” Kun grumbles, trying to save a shred of his dignity in front of his ex-boyfriend and the ex-boyfriend’s amused fiancé.

“But I _can_ handle rejection,” Ten says, glancing pointedly at Kun. 

Kun opens his mouth to retort, but then snaps it shut. What can he say? Ten seems to enjoy venturing into dangerous territory and Kun does not have the desire to engage with that. 

“Uh. Alright, then,” Johnny starts, looking first at Kun, then at Ten, and then at Kun again.

“I like this mattress. We should buy it,” Taeil says quietly, lacing his hand with Johnny’s, and just like that, the full force of Johnny’s attention is on Taeil. Kun nearly heaves out a sigh of relief.

“Whatever you say, babe!” Johnny chirps happily and takes a step forward when Taeil tugs on his hand to pull him back. “No, wait,” Taeil says, squeezing Johnny’s hand. “Don’t just go along with what I say, Youngho. Do you like the mattress?”

“I liked kissing you while on it,” Johnny smirks, turning his body towards Taeil so he can tower over his fiancé. 

Taeil isn’t fazed. “You like kissing me, period, Youngho.”

“Touche´,” Johnny says. He takes a step closer, making it clear he intends to lean down and kiss Taeil again to accentuate his point. Taeil presses his palm against Johnny’s lips.

“Later, Youngho,” Taeil says softly. 

“I like this mattress. Let’s buy it so we can break it in tonight,” Johnny’s voice is muffled against Taeil’s palm, but Kun can hear him loudly and clearly. Johnny catches Taeil’s hand before he can pull it back, and presses a kiss to his ring finger, just below the engagement band.

Oh. Rings. They have engagement rings now. Kun can’t help but stare at Johnny and Taeil’s hands, at the matching bands on their ring fingers. Had they always been there? He feels a nudge and turns to see Ten’s gaze trained exactly where Kun’s had been.

Ten looks at him then, as if having sensed what was on Kun’s mind. “Shall we leave?” he asks quietly. Kun nods. He needs to get out, get away. 

“Okay, you lovebirds. We’re off,” Ten calls out, effectively breaking Johnny and Taeil out of their trance. Johnny laces his fingers with Taeil’s again as he faces them. 

“We’ll see you at dinner tonight, Ten?” Taeil asks. He pitches it like a question, but Kun recognizes it for a statement. 

“Right. Dinner,” Ten says. “I’ll be there, yes.” He tugs on Kun’s arm. “Say bye, Kun.”

“Um, yeah, bye,” Kun manages to say as Ten waves at Johnny and Taeil and pulls him along. Just before they are out of earshot, Kun hears Johnny wonder out loud, “That was strange.”

 _You have no idea how much_ , Kun thinks to himself, as he lets Ten drag him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am. Not really satisfied with the way I ended this chapter... I'll make it up in the next, though. Do let me know what you think!
> 
> My [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/gummieistrying); my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/gummieistrying). Come talk to me!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What was that?” Kun asks, stopping in his tracks so Ten is forced to stop as well.
> 
> “What was what?” Ten asks, turning to look at Kun, fingers encircled around Kun’s wrist where they slipped down to from his elbow. Kun’s eyes flick to them before he looks Ten in the eye, and says, “Back there. Why’d we leave like that?”
> 
> “You’re welcome to go watch them fuck if you like,” Ten snipes. He’s irritated, Kun realizes. Not because of his tone, but because Ten has unconsciously tightened his hold on his wrist, nearly digging his nails into Kun’s skin.
> 
> “Ouch,” Kun deadpans.

“What was that?” Kun asks, stopping in his tracks so Ten is forced to stop as well.

“What was what?” Ten asks, turning to look at Kun, fingers encircled around Kun’s wrist where they slipped down to from his elbow. Kun’s eyes flick to them before he looks Ten in the eye, and says, “Back there. Why’d we leave like that?”

“You’re welcome to go watch them fuck if you like,” Ten snipes. He’s irritated, Kun realizes. Not because of his tone, but because Ten has unconsciously tightened his hold on his wrist, nearly digging his nails into Kun’s skin.

“Ouch,” Kun deadpans.

Ten frowns at him, then realizes the hold he has on Kun’s wrist and drops his hand abruptly. Kun glances at the faint crescent impressions Ten’s nails left on his skin and looks up at Ten looking the other way. “Well?” he prods.

“Well, what?” Ten grumbles. “I’m sorry about your wrist.”

“Ah, yes,” Kun agrees, feeling a burst of mischievousness in his heart. “You should be.”

Ten only glares at him and reaches out to grab his mugs out of Kun’s basket. Kun pulls the basket out of Ten’s reach.

“The fuck are you doing?” Ten spits.

“You should calm down,” Kun replies.

“Give me my mugs back,” Ten states, trying to reach for his mugs again. Kun bodily blocks him, trying his best to hide the smile blooming on his lips. It’s a heady feeling, this power, toying with Ten the way Ten toys with him. 

“Kun,” Ten huffs. “Seriously.”

“No, calm down,” Kun says, holding the basket behind his back.

“Fine,” Ten turns and walks away. 

“Hey!” Kun calls out. Ten stops. “This isn’t a healthy way to deal with conflicts, you know.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “Okay, Mom.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your mom,” comes the reply.

Ten cocks his head to one side, then straightens up. Walks right up and into Kun’s space, nearly forcing Kun to take a step back.

“Daddy, then?” Ten’s signature smile is back on his lips. Kun narrows his eyes despite the blush on his cheeks. Ten stands his ground. “Shut up,” Kun mutters, looking away, refusing to acknowledge the triumphant look on Ten’s face. 

“Oh? What is this?” Ten asks, stepping even closer, chest-to-chest with Kun. Kun’s ears burn with the awareness of the people around them side-eyeing them, but he is helpless in the face of—well, Ten. Ten and his body, Ten and his face. Just Ten being the menace Johnny said he is. 

“You’re cute when you blush,” Ten teases him. “Daddy,” he tacks on.

“Shut up,” Kun repeats firmly.

“I’m not kink-shaming you, don’t worry,” Ten says mischievously.

“Not my kink,” Kun grouses.

“Oh?” Ten muses. “But the hair-pulling—that’s a kink, right?”

Kun doesn’t deign to answer.

“Mm,” Ten hums. “I remember you liked it when—”

Kun covers Ten’s mouth with his palm, effectively cutting him and his rambling off. “Enough,” he says, hoping Ten would take the hint and shut up. He is forced to pull his hand back when he feels a wetness against his palm.

“Ew!” Kun exclaims, directing a disgusted look at Ten as he swipes his hand across Ten’s chest, wiping his saliva off on his own shirt. Ten, eyes narrowed, grabs his hand before Kun can pull it back. He holds Kun’s hand, keeping his open palm pressed over his chest, letting Kun feel the steady lub-dub of his heart.

Kun blinks at him—blinks himself out of the stupor Ten somehow always manages to put him in—and whispers, “What are you doing?”

Ten wordlessly drops his hand and takes advantage of Kun’s confused state and his slackened hold on the basket to reach over and grab his mugs. He turns and walks away.

“Ten!” Kun calls out. Ten does not stop walking, does not spare Kun a single glance, forcing Kun to jog up to him and fall in step. “Ten,” he urges again but does not get a reply.

“Come home with me,” Kun says, overtaking Ten and walking backwards to ensure Ten looks at him without Kun having blocked his path. Ten stops in his tracks, so Kun stops as well.

Ten searches his face for—something—Kun doesn’t know what. He wonders if Ten found it when he breaks into a knowing smirk. “Is that a proposition?” 

“Not sexual,” Kun blurts.

Ten’s eyes lose their mirth yet again. He tries to push past Kun but Kun blocks his path. “Listen, I—” Kun starts.

“No, you listen, Qian Kun,” Ten states accusingly, anger flaring up. “I don’t know what the fuck you are trying to do, flirting with me and then shooting me down in the same breath. It’s frustrating! You frustrate me.”

“I didn’t realize I had that effect on you,” Kun breathes. He doesn’t mean to mock Ten, to sound offensive, but realizes as soon as the words are out of his mouth that Ten is bound to take offence to them. “I’m sorry,” he tacks on hurriedly.

“What are you trying to achieve here, Kun?” Ten sounds tired.

“Let me make you lunch,” Kun says. “To return the favour.”

“What favour?”

“The tea.”

“Ah,” Ten muses, drawing the sound out. “I see. It’s been eating away at you, hm? Don’t like acts of kindness?”

“That’s not—”

“Did you take it as charity, yesterday?” Ten sounds accusatory, stepping into Kun’s space again. “Thought I was taking pity on you?”

Kun stays silent. Ten smiles wryly. “I don’t understand you,” he mutters.

“Can I make you lunch?” Kun asks, gnaws on his lower lip.

“Are you going to poison it?” Ten asks.

Kun opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again. No words come out.

Ten sighs. “As much as I love making you speechless, I  _ do _ need an answer. Preferably a ‘no’.”

“No!” Kun exclaims. “What even! Why would I poison you?”

“Eh,” Ten shrugs. “Why would you make me lunch?”

“I just told you.”

“And I just asked a question.”

Kun rolls his eyes. “C’mon, I have a couple more things to get on my list. Then we can go home.” He pulls the mugs out of Ten’s hand and places them in the basket, then starts walking, leaving Ten to catch up to him with a huff.

“You’re really taking liberties with my time, aren’t you?” Ten asks, a hint of mirth back in his voice.

“You’re here on a Monday afternoon. I assumed you have nothing better to do,” Kun replies. He takes great pleasure in Ten’s melodramatic expression of outrage.

“You’re the same,” Ten points out.

“Nope, I took a day off,” Kun smiles. Ten hmphs but doesn’t reply.

They stop at the Fruits and Vegetables section. It takes Ten 30 seconds of Kun inspecting and choosing apples carefully to start tapping his foot. Another 10 seconds and Ten rolls his eyes and states, “C’mon, get on with it. There are other ingredients to buy. I get to choose the menu.”

Kun sighs. “I regret offering you lunch.”

Ten smiles a brilliant smile at him. “Darling, I’m going to make you regret ever meeting me.”

“I already do,” Kun deadpans.

Ten stalks away, arms crossed against his chest and nose in the air. Kun shakes his head, crushing the burst of fondness in his heart and following after him. He’s looking forward to lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a scale of 1-10, how obvious is it that I have no idea where I'm going with this, with 1 being 'Obvious' and 10 being 'LMAO'?  
> The next chapter will be longer, I promise. 
> 
> My [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/gummieistrying); my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/gummieistrying).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kun raises an eyebrow as he walks to the door."What? You need a special invitation to come in?"
> 
> Ten shrugs. "I'm your guest. Invite me in."
> 
> "I thought that was just for vampires," Kun mutters to himself. Ten narrows his eyes, as if he has heard what Kun said. If there was even the remotest chance of Ten being a vampire, Kun would take this as a suspicious sign. But for good or for worse, Ten is human. A very attractive human.

The cab ride home is proving to be unusually eventful—with the event being Ten’s contemplative silence. Kun keeps sneaking glances at him but Ten is resolutely looking out of the window, lost in thought. Or maybe he is ignoring Kun, who knows? Nobody but Ten.

Kun wonders if he should try to strike up a conversation. After all, it’ll take them 25 minutes give or take 5 minutes to reach Kun’s house because of the traffic. The prospect of spending 25 minutes stuck in this limbo state of oppressive silence feels suffocating to Kun. But the icebreakers popping up in his mind are either 0 (literally zero; a blank) or 100 ( _ So Ten, how long do you think it’ll take you to get over Johnny? _ ) Nope. Ten would kill him for the latter, so Kun chooses the former. Obviously. He can’t die on the  _ one _ day-off he decided to take after months of slogging away in his little studio, day and night, hitting out melody after melody, hoping one of them would be a hit.

Huh. Now that he thinks about it, this is the first day-off he has taken since he broke up with Johnny nearly five months ago. It dawns on him—like when you spend the night working and when you finally look up you realize it’s dawn—that he threw himself into his work to cope with his break-up. Sure, his work was greatly appreciated; he might even be looking at bagging an award or two. 

Despite the AC in the cab having created a pleasantly chill little bubble to relax in, Kun rolls the window down and gulps in mouthfuls of air (and dirt). 

Suddenly narrowing on the true reason behind the mad fury of productivity that fueled his success has knocked the wind out of him. Not that the reason being a breakup discredits his hard work, but Kun feels betrayed by himself—his creativity didn’t come from the purity of the desire to create; it came from a need to vent and rid himself of thoughts he didn’t want to think and feelings he did not want to feel. But then again, he channeled his negativity into the creation of something positive. Which, he supposes, is pure in its own sense. If nothing else, it was purification.

Fuck. He knows he’ll spend all night mulling over this ugh-the-sunshine-is-blinding ray of awareness that has suddenly been shone on the life he has lived for the past five months.

“You’re letting all the dust in,” Ten drawls softly, without even sparing him a glance.

There’s radio static in Kun’s mind, so he obeys silently: pulls up the window and unconsciously mirrors Ten’s position as he rests his head against the glass. He doesn’t notice Ten stealing a glance at him and furrowing his eyebrows in worry before looking away in fear of being caught.

Kun has so much to think about. He hasn’t even really given a thought to Johnny. And Taeil. Johnny and Taeil. All he did was feel what he felt in the moments when he was around the happily-engaged-to-be-married couple. Has he unconsciously been using Ten as a distraction when his work stopped being enough to stop the  _ necessary _ thoughts from plaguing his mind? Yes. All because he subconsciously chose not to dwell on his breakup with Johnny, Johnny’s whirlwind romance with Taeil and their subsequent engagement, and refused to process the emotions he shouldn’t have repressed in the first place? Yes. 

Kun feels like the shittiest of human beings. No wonder Ten isn’t speaking to him all of a sudden. Perhaps he realized Kun is the worst of the worst and he is better off not knowing Kun at all. Or having lunch with him.

“Did I force you into having lunch with me?” Kun blurts before he has enough time to think the thought through. 

Ten looks at him then. Turns a questioning, piercing gaze on Kun, not unlike a spotlight. “What brought this on?” he asks.

“Just answer, please?” Kun pleads. Fuck, he’ll even beg at this point. His mind is a whirlpool of thoughts right now, none of them very kind to himself.

“No, you made an offer I could not refuse,” Ten states. There’s something in his voice, something he’s hiding.

“You just quoted The Godfather,” Kun voices out the realization as the familiarity of the statement clicks in his mind. To himself, he sounds lost, yet there is a tinge of wonder mixed in. The only thing predictable about Ten is his unpredictability.

Ten snickers. Ah, Kun thinks. The thing in Ten’s voice that he was hiding—it was mischief.

“It was, hm. Convenient,” Ten muses, a smile playing on his lips. It’s not his usual up-to-no-good smile. Well, he still looks like he’s up to no good, but there’s something new, something sweet about it. Maybe it’s the curl about the corners of his lips. Like a happy, smug little cat you can’t help but want to pet.

It’s as if Ten has taken a brush dipped in white paint and painted all over the mess Kun made of the canvas of his mind. The canvas doesn’t look fresh and brand new, but the hodge-podge of tar that Kun had splattered onto it has been covered. A new beginning.

Kun’s lips twitch before he gives in and smiles, eyes crinkling, dimples popping. Ten looks momentarily stunned and then blinks himself out of his stupor. He narrows his eyes at Kun.

“Are you having second thoughts about making me lunch?” he questions.

“No, no, I want to do this,” Kun is quick to reassure him. “I just… wondered whether you might not have been on board with it fully…”

Ten scoffs. “Please,” he says. “I’m having Pad Thai that  _ you’ll _ make for me, and nothing shall come in my way.”

“Alright, then,” Kun agrees.

They look out of their windows again, feeling a smidge bashful. At least, Kun is. He doesn’t yet understand why. Or doesn’t want to. He’ll just add this to the list of things he needs to think about at night. Preferably that very night.

The cab ride passes smoothly, peacefully, uneventfully.

  
  
  


Instead of waiting near the elevator while Kun pays the cab fare, Ten takes the stairs despite Kun not having told him the floor number of his apartment, or even his door number. Kun follows him with their shopping bags as if it’s Ten’s apartment he is going to, and not his own where he has lived for the past 3 years. After two floors worth of stairs, Ten stops at the landing and turns to Kun, and cocks his head questioningly. So, Kun takes the lead and climbs the flight of stairs, and walks over to his third-floor apartment. 

He punches in his passcode and the door swings open with a beep. He steps inside and takes off his shoes, goes to the coffee table, and places his bags on it. Then he turns and notices that Ten is still standing at the doorway.

Kun raises an eyebrow as he walks to the door."What? You need a special invitation to come in?"

Ten shrugs. "I'm your guest. Invite me in."

"I thought that was just for vampires," Kun mutters to himself. Ten narrows his eyes as if he has heard what Kun said. If there was even the remotest chance of Ten being a vampire, Kun would take this as a suspicious sign. But for good or for worse, Ten is human.

"Come in," Kun adds monotonously, but loudly, holding the door open for Ten.

Ten smirks as he steps in past Kun and bends to unzip his Doc Martens. Yes, Ten is human indeed. A very attractive human at that. Kun mentally smacks himself for the dangerous thought and diverts his attention away from Ten by turning and pressing the door shut.

"Hey," Ten says, suddenly slipping between Kun and the door, causing Kun to stumble backward in surprise.  _ Fuck, Ten is so pretty _ , Kun's mind supplies unhelpfully before his eyes zero in on how Ten is no longer eye-level with him. Huh. 

"Huh," Kun breathes out, stepping closer to Ten. "You're tiny."

"Fuck you, I'm not," Ten immediately huffs, crossing his arms.

Kun looks down at Ten's socked feet, the toes curling and uncurling, and then up—still down—at Ten's face. He is offended, clearly but Kun just finds it cute. He steps even closer, breaching Ten's personal bubble and forcing him to look up at Kun angrily.

"Still think you aren't tiny?" Kun smirks.

"Yes,” Ten rolls his eyes. “You're not that tall yourself, now are you, Qian Kun?” he adds spitefully.

Kun leans in a little. “Well, that just makes you tinier, doesn’t it?” He doesn’t know where he is getting the confidence from, but having the advantage of a few centimetres of height over Ten, leaning in and flustering the ever-composed man? Yeah. Kun likes this heady rush of power.

Ten averts his eyes for a moment, before hitting Kun with a look of pure, blazing fury. He jabs Kun in the chest with his pointer finger. “You think you can intimidate me?”

Kun leans in, turning his head so his lips brush the cool metal of the cuffs in Ten’s ear. “Maybe,” he whispers, lingering there a second longer than he needs to, so he senses more than hears Ten gasp. He pulls away then, feeling immensely chuffed.

Ten retaliates swiftly, grabbing a fistful of Kun’s t-shirt and pulling him closer so he is forced to rest his forehead against Ten’s. “Think again,” Ten says in a low, smooth voice, sounding not at all affected by their proximity—not like Kun is—and pushes him back. Kun is too flabbergasted to do anything more than stand there, watching, but not processing the sight of Ten padding past him, over to the coffee table to grab the groceries they need for lunch.

“Well, don’t just stand there like an idiot,” Ten drawls, no venom in his voice, simply stating a fact. “Lunch isn’t going to cook itself, you know.”

Kun shakes himself out of his stupor, feeling the now-familiar prickle of irritation that Ten makes him feel. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles and directs Ten to his kitchen.

  
  
  


Surprisingly, Ten chooses to help Kun out in the kitchen. It’s help he could probably do without, Kun thinks, but he is grateful, nonetheless. Moreover, there’s something  _ endearing _ about Ten moving around in Kun’s kitchen as if he owns it, wearing Kun’s favourite apron while Kun is forced to wear the embarrassing gag gift. 

Ten had been defeated by laughter at the sight of “My Milkshake Brings All The Boys + Girls To The Yard'' emblazoned on the apron, and he had laughed harder still once Kun put it on. Ten had a nice laugh, so Kun didn’t mind being the punchline of the joke. 

They seem to be working well together—too well, in fact, and Kun is waiting for the ball to drop. Somehow, it doesn’t. Or it doesn’t,  _ yet _ .

Kun doesn’t comment on Ten’s choppy slicing and dicing of the vegetables while he himself cuts the tofu into neat cubes, and Ten doesn’t nag Kun as much as he’d expected. Instead, Kun gets to listen to fond snippets of Ten’s childhood memories of his family, the nostalgia bright and warm, dipped in sunshine. It reminds Kun of home, _ his _ home, so he chips in with reminiscing of his own. They trade anecdotes of their disastrous first attempts at cooking while the noodles boil and finally, Ten instructs Kun on how  _ exactly _ he likes his Pad Thai.

When it is ready, Ten lets out an obscene moan as he sniffs the heavenly aroma of the dish. Kun didn’t think anyone actually did that outside of erotic literature and porn, but Ten had proved him wrong once again. That too about something Kun didn’t know what to feel about.  Only that Ten’s moan makes the memory of their kiss at the bar flash in Kun’s mind. Another thing he hasn’t really given much thought to. 

Kun is immediately reminded of his vague apology to Ten at the cafe; it seems like it happened eons ago even though it happened just the day before. Ten had made him tea, so Kun had offered him lunch. Right. Kun shakes the errant thoughts away. He’ll think about these things later when he doesn’t have to worry about—his eyes widen when he spots Ten about to take the piping hot utensil off the stove using his bare hands.

Having prevented an accident happening in the nick of time, Kun heaves a sigh of relief, then turns on Ten angrily. “Are you mad?” he spits.

Ten has the decency to look chagrined. “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

Kun opens his mouth to retort, but decides to snap it shut. Instead, he turns his back to Ten and busies himself with getting the  _ good _ dining ware out of the cabinet. 

“Hey…” Ten trails off. Kun doesn’t reply.

Ten scoffs in disbelief. “Are you seriously ignoring me over this?”

“I’m not,” Kun says, sounding tired even to himself. He steps out of the kitchen and starts setting the table. Ten follows him.

“Oh c’mon, Kun, nothing happened, why are you being like this?” Ten grumbles.

“You’re right,” Kun whirls on him. “Nothing happened. So can we drop this and have lunch?”

“You’re angry,” Ten observes.

Kun feels like ripping his hair out. He  _ is _ angry. A little at Ten, a lot at himself. Ten could have hurt himself, and Kun couldn’t have forgiven himself had that happened. Yet, Kun can’t understand why he cares so much about Ten seemingly not caring about his own well-being. He sighs heavily and plops down onto a chair.

“I’m sorry,” Kun mumbles, covering his face with his hands. “I’ve just. Got a lot on my mind.”

“Hey,” Ten says, stepping closer and pulling Kun’s hands away from his face. “No, I’m sorry, I should have been paying attention to what I was doing,” he adds softly. “And thank you for preventing me from giving myself a first-degree burn.”

Kun’s brain latches on to the warmth and softness of Ten’s lightly callused, unhurt hands cradling his own, and promptly short-circuits. “Let’s eat,” he states, and pulls his hands back, ignoring the hurt crossing Ten’s delicate features.

  
  
  


Lunch passes silently. They’re both too preoccupied with their own thoughts and feelings to converse. Kun doesn’t like the silence—not like this; not with Ten—but there is nothing he can do about it. Nothing he  _ knows _ he can do. Taking a wild guess feels too risky, what with the atmosphere being so tense and charged.

Ten’s phone chimes and Kun nearly jumps in his seat. He looks up from his nearly empty bowl to Ten’s already empty bowl and watches Ten check his phone. A moment later, Ten’s mouth falls open. “Oh, oh shit!” he exclaims softly.

Kun is immediately concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Ten bursts out laughing and simply holds up the phone for Kun to see. There’s a blurry photograph of two cats—one a Siamese, and Kun doesn’t know enough about cat breeds to figure out what breed the other one is—with their faces squished together, pupils dilated, noses pushing into the camera. Kun frowns.

“They tried to unlock my iPad one too many times, it seems,” Ten laughs.

Ah right, so these are Ten’s cats, Kun pieces the information together in his mind, and chuckles at the adorable ridiculousness of the cats’ antics.

“They’re really cute,” Kun says honestly.

“I know, right?” Ten chirps. 

“Yeah,” Kun agrees. “What are their names?”

Ten rapidly swipes around on his phone and shifts his chair closer to Kun’s, holding his phone out in front of them so Kun can look at the album Ten has opened on his phone. 

“This is Louis,” Ten says, showing a photo of the Siamese cat sleeping with its tongue poking out. “And this is Leon,” he adds, swiping to a photo of the other cat, lying belly-up on the floor in front of Ten’s Doc Marten-ed feet, asking to be pet. Ten spends the next fifteen minutes showing Kun photograph after photograph of the carts, excitedly chattering about the story behind each. His affection for his cats is obvious in every single word he speaks. Kun loves it. 

The cats. He loves the cats, Kun tells himself. But he can’t deny a happy Ten is exhilarating to be around, his energy infectious. The three of them—Louis, Leon, and Ten—have absolutely charmed Kun.

  
  
  


“Ah, I wish I had a cat of my own,” Kun sighs sadly as he stands at the sink, washing the dishes.

“Get one,” Ten states, from where he is wiping the clean dishes dry.

“I would, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to take good care of it and give it the attention it deserves.”

Ten hums. “What’s your number?”

“Huh? What number?” Kun asks, puzzled.

“Your phone number, idiot,” Ten snaps, bookending it with a light laugh.

Kun recites his phone number, highly aware of Ten punching the digits in on his phone. Kun’s phone buzzes inside the back pocket of his jeans. Kun wipes his hands and pulls his phone out, wondering what Ten has texted him—if Ten has texted him.

He has. Kun breaks into a smile as soon as he sees the message: a photograph of Ten with Louis and Leon in his arms. He looks up to see Ten hiding a shy smile behind his phone. 

“Because I’m so kind and generous, and because you fed me a delicious lunch, I’ll supply you with cat pics,” Ten states, turning away from Kun to wipe the last couple of utensils remaining. 

“You’ll do that for me?” Kun wonders out loud, awed.

“Of course. It’ll be torture for you to see me with my cats while you go about your sad, cat-less existence, right?” Ten throws a smirk at Kun.

“Sure,” Kun agrees, not taking Ten seriously at all. He’s feeling too giddy to feel anything else at the moment. He smiles his prettiest smile at Ten, catches him falter in his movements for a split-second, and smiles harder. 

“Hey, uh,” Ten says in an unfamiliar tone after a moment of comfortable, companionable silence. Is that nervousness Kun can hear in his voice? “Do you want to come to Johnny’s with me tonight? For dinner?”

“Um, sorry, no,” Kun replies.

Ten furrows his eyebrows and juts his lower lip out, making it look like a cross between a frown and a pout. “Why not?”

“I’m not invited, Ten. I can’t just tag along with you.”

“But why?” Ten argues. “I’m their guest, and you’ll be mine.”

Kun shakes his head, a touch fondly. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Then you can be my date,” Ten says with pride as if he has found a surefire way to bring about world peace.

“Well,” Kun argues back. “Did they say you could bring a date?”

“It didn’t come up, but they also didn’t say I  _ can’t _ bring a date,” Ten states triumphantly.

Kun sighs. “Thank you for the offer, but still, no.”

Ten narrows his eyes. “It’s the date bit, isn’t it?”

“What? No,” Kun insists. “It’s the don’t-want-to-show-up-uninvited bit.”

Ten smiles playfully. “So what I’m getting out of this is, you’re not opposed to being my date.”

Kun’s immediate reaction is to retort, continuing their banter, but he pauses. Are they being serious in a veiled manner, or is this just a joke to Ten? And what about him? He has no idea what he wants. 

Ten’s smile melts away and his eyes grow cold. “I see. You’re doing that thing where you are working your way up to rejecting me,” he accuses. “Well, save it, because I offered nothing.”

He shoves his way past a frozen Kun, suffering from severe whiplash. What just happened? They were trading harmless barbs and suddenly Ten was—

The beep of the door opening pulls Kun out of his momentary stupor and he runs out of the kitchen, calling out, “Wait, no! Ten!” 

He catches Ten’s hand just as he is about to slam the door shut.

“What?” Ten snaps, pulling his hand back. 

“Ten,” Kun pleads. “Don’t be like this, don’t just assume the worst and walk away.”

“Oh, listen to you,” Ten starts, agitated.

“No, listen, I’m sorry. I just. I really need to think a lot of things through.”

“Don’t we all?” Ten sighs.

Kun nods. “Please? Give me a little time?”

“For what?”

“I—I don’t know, really,” Kun fumbles. “To figure things out, I guess. But, I’d like to see you again,” he breathes out.

“You want to  _ see me _ ? Not just because you ran into me at the cafe or the department store?”

“Yes, like, a planned outing. Or we can stay in, also. Whatever works for you,” Kun says. His brain hasn’t caught up to what his mouth is saying. He hopes it’s the right words.

Ten cocks his head, no longer angry, a hint of playfulness returning. “This sounds very much like the D-word, Kun.”

“Death?” Kun blurts, partly on auto-pilot, partly on purpose. He tacks on a charming smile.

Ten snorts and turns away immediately. “Fuck you,” he says over his shoulder with a smug smile playing on his lips. 

Kun doesn’t reply, simply watches Ten stride over to the stairway and listens to him thunder down the stairs until he is out of earshot. Then, he sighs blissfully to himself and steps inside his apartment, pulling the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a longer chapter. It ended up not covering everything I wanted to cover, but seriously, KunTen as characters have taken full control of this—their—story. They refuse to let me speed things up. 
> 
> Let me know how I did!
> 
> My [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/gummieistrying); my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/gummieistrying).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True to his word, at night, Ten sends Kun a photo of himself holding his furry children in his arms—Louis looks grumpy, but resigned to his fate, while Leon looks a split-second away from kicking Ten in the face. Ten captions it: `Louis and Leon say hi.`

True to his word, at night, Ten sends Kun a photo of himself holding his furry children in his arms—Louis looks grumpy, but resigned to his fate, while Leon looks a split-second away from kicking Ten in the face. Ten captions it: `Louis and Leon say hi.`

Kun snorts at the photo and texts back: `Hi, Louis and Leon.`

Ten’s reply is swift and indignant: `And what about me?`

Kun chuckles as he types: `What about you?`

He catches himself in the bathroom mirror. His reflection smiles stupidly back at him. Kun doesn’t hate it, but he’s a little embarrassed by it, so he squirts a blob of mint toothpaste onto his toothbrush and shoves it in his mouth so it would stop giving away everything Kun is feeling—even to himself. Ten just—Ten is—Ten—ugh. Kun doesn’t like how much he  _ likes _ what Ten makes him feel. 

Kun spits the foam out and rinses his toothbrush, and then his mouth. He splashes water onto his face and applies the expensive, supposedly-gentle face-cleanser gel Dejun had gifted him on his birthday. Kun uses it sparingly, and tonight, it feels special and momentous. His phone pings in his pocket thrice just as he is washing his face, and he pulls the device out with wet hands.

Ten: `Won’t you say hi to me? Thank me for blessing you with a photo of my cats and my gorgeous self? Worship at my feet and beg for more?`

Kun snorts. Before he can reply, Ten sends another photo, this time of Leon standing at his feet and looking up at him with pleading eyes. Leon is super-cute, but Ten’s feet are bare, and Kun feels his throat dry up. He stands there staring at Ten’s feet, letting the water droplets running down his face drip onto his naked chest. It feels so illicit and makes his stomach swoop; Kun wonders whether he has a latent foot fetish. 

He nearly drops the phone when it buzzes again with a message from Ten: `What? Cat got your tongue?`

Kun rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile on his face as he replies: `No, my toothbrush did.`

It’s a white lie, but Ten doesn’t need to know that. Kun hovers his thumbs over the screen, racking his brain for a good follow-up message, but Ten beats him to it with: `Aw, poor baby. Are the bristles too hard? Did you overbrush? You seem like the type to overbrush. Or do you count while brushing?`

Kun feels a mixture of amusement and annoyance, but Ten isn’t done with his impromptu, unprompted mini-tirade as he adds: `Whereas `` _ I _ have real problems.`

He sends a photo of his bare feet again, this time the camera focused on his left ankle—specifically, what appears to be a fresh scratch, with dots and dashes of blood. He follows it up with: `Greed made my own child turn against me.`

Kun barks out a laugh and his thumbs fly over the keyboard as he types: `Looks like you have a mutiny on your hands. Feet, actually. Maybe think about that instead of my teeth?`

The chat bubble shows Ten typing, and stopping, and then typing again. Kun frowns. Did he say something wrong? Before he can send a message trying to change the topic, Ten’s message pops up on the screen: `I was thinking about your mouth.`

Oh. What does Kun say to that? He hits off a snappy: `Didn’t go too well, did it?`

He regrets it immediately and looks at himself in the mirror. He just looks stupid now and feels so even more. Ten is going to stop texting him and—his phone buzzes in his hand. He stares at it for a moment. Ten is calling him. Why is Ten calling him? He hesitantly accepts the call and speaks, “Hello?”

“Thought I’d check up on your mouth,” Ten states smoothly on the other end. Kun lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. “It’s perfectly fine, thank you for asking,” he chimes as he finally steps out of the bathroom, turns the lights off, and makes his way to his bed.

“Is it, now?” Ten asks, voice curling around the words. “How would I know?”

“I’m speaking to you, aren’t I?” Kun states, deliberately sounding like he is calling Ten an idiot. It’s his self-preservation instincts kicking in. Talking to Ten like this, not having his face to be distracted by, Kun realizes that Ten’s real power lies in his voice, and it scares him.

“Mm, but is that—” Ten starts to say when Kun hears a sudden, loud meow in the background. Kun chuckles into the phone as Ten calls out, “Louis, baby, come here!” 

“Looks like your children need your attention,” Kun says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Ten sighs. “Yeah, they’re needy like that.”

“How’d the dinner go?” Kun asks abruptly, flopping back onto the bed.

“You mean the date I third-wheeled?” 

Kun can’t help but chuckle again. “They’re really… a  _ lot _ …” he trails off.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Ten huffs. “I mean, Johnny’s always been affectionate, but Johnny  _ and  _ Taeil _ together _ are just—I can’t with them. They made me want to throw up, like, five times.”

“Were they as bad as at the store?” Kun asks commiseratingly.

“Worse,” Ten deadpans. “I’ve never felt this invisible in my life.”

“Ugh, I feel you,” Kun says, curling in on himself as if he is trying to keep this conversation with Ten contained within himself, close to his heart.

“Do you?” Ten asks in a low voice. 

“Hm?” Kun frowns. 

“Do you know how I felt? How I feel?” Ten’s words are loaded. Kun opens his mouth to reply, and then shuts it. What can he say? One wrong word and this delicate new connection he has forged with Ten would break—Ten would break it. 

“Because if you do, you’ll accompany me next time so I don’t  _ feel like that _ ,” Ten tacks on as if sensing Kun’s internal dilemma. Kun silently breathes out in relief.

“So what I’m hearing is, you want to go on a double-date,” Kun says, voice lilting.

“Mhm, so you  _ do _ understand how I feel,” Ten smirks. Kun can  _ hear _ Ten’s lips curling and feels his ears burn. “But I’d rather it be just the two of us, you know that, don’t you?”

Kun remains silent for a moment, then answers softly, “Yes.”

“Good,” Ten sounds pleased. “And on that note, have a good night. I’m off to sleep, I have dance practice early in the morning. Bye, Kun!” Ten doesn’t wait for Kun’s answer as he cuts the call. Kun pulls his phone away from his ear, stares at the open chat window with Ten. 

After the whiplash subsides, he texts Ten: `You didn’t let me say goodnight.`

Putting his phone screen-down on the bedside table, Kun turns over to the other side, buries his head into the pillow, and wills himself to fall asleep. He falls asleep just as he is beginning to wonder if he’ll fall asleep, and misses the buzz of his phone vibrating.

The next morning, he wakes up to the text from Ten that he missed. It says: `I don’t want to hear that from you unless it is followed by a kiss.`

Kun presses his lips together in a half-hearted effort to stop himself from smiling. Ten is going to be the death of him, he thinks, and it’s a death he’ll die gladly.

  
  
  


It’s that same helpless smile that Yukhei catches nearly two weeks later when he visits Kun in his studio on a Friday afternoon. Just as Yukhei is getting ready to leave, Kun’s phone buzzes with a message from Ten: a photo of Ten lazing around with his cats. Kun barely pays attention to what Yukhei is saying—something about going clubbing with him and Kunhang on Saturday night—and nods so Yukhei would let him text Ten in peace.

“Kun ge, did you listen to anything I just said?” Yukhei asks. 

“Huh?” Kun blurts. “Yes, clubbing with you and Kunhang tomorrow, right?” he states proudly. Kun trusts his ears to pick up things, if not his mind to actually process them.

“Yeah,” Yukhei grins. “But you missed one thing I said.”

“What?” Kun frowns.

“I said you could ask your boyfriend to join us,” Yukhei states triumphantly. 

Kun colours a little. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s—Ten. Ten is—Ten.”

“Crush, then,” Yukhei amends and hurriedly starts speaking when Kun opens his mouth to disagree. “You  _ do _ have a crush on him, Kun ge, you can’t deny that.”

Kun sighs. “Maybe,” he mutters to himself.

Yukhei grins even harder. “I heard that,” he crows. “Looking forward to meeting him tomorrow!” He runs out of Kun’s studio as soon as he makes the declaration. Kun blinks himself out of his mildly-panicked stupor and smiles fondly at Yukhei’s antics.

Then, the smile on his face is wiped away when his phone buzzes in his hand with another message from Ten—another photograph. The first thing he notices is the cats sprawled on Ten’s chest, the second, Ten’s long, bare legs on display, his loose shorts having ridden up his thighs, and the third, Ten’s smirk as he gazes at the camera. 

His phone buzzes with a text from Ten: `What do you see?`

What does Kun see? Everything and nothing. Kun runs his eyes down Ten’s legs and then finds himself arrested by the playfulness on Ten’s face, the hair flopping into his eyes, the mischief around his mouth. Swallowing down saliva he hadn’t realized had pooled in his mouth, Kun texts back cheekily: `The cats.`

For a long moment, there is no reply. Kun begins to fret, so he keeps his phone aside and tries to focus on the melody he was trying to fix. There’s only static in his brain. When the phone buzzes, Kun grabs it with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of achieving. He nearly drops his phone when he sees Ten’s latest message—

Ten’s limbs are arranged like in the previous photograph, but not only are the cats missing, and Ten’s t-shirt is bunched up above his navel, the smirk on Ten’s face is even cockier now. Kun forces himself to tear his gaze away from the phone and remember how to breathe, and promptly forgets how to when Ten texts: `And now?`

Fingers trembling, Kun replies weakly: `No cats.`

Ten is going to kill him for this—but does it matter when Kun feels like he is dying already? Kun’s brain is malfunctioning too hard to come up with an answer. Ten is  _ too much _ and Kun hates it so much.

Ten’s reply is immediate: `You’re fucking infuriating!`

Kun relaxes in his chair. An indignant Ten? This, he can handle. He quickly texts back: `And yet you want me, anyway.`

He blinks at the text. Fuck. What the fuck did he just do?! He was supposed to keep it fun and flirty and he just—he needs to do damage control now.

The buzz of his phone cuts through the thoughts popping up in his mind. Dreading what Ten has to say, Kun reads Ten’s message: `I do. Want you.`

Oh,  _ fuck _ . There’s no controlling the damage Kun has done. So he puts his phone away and pretends it doesn’t exist. It buzzes twice, and then vibrates for a long time with a phone call, and then not again. Kun ignores it all. Tries and fails to focus on his work. Succeeds at drowning the fleeting melody in his head with a litany of  _ I-fucked-up _ .

  
  
  


“I fucked up,” Kun wails into his drink before downing it neat, and following it up with the mixer. Yukhei and Kunhang share worried looks as Yukhei rubs Kun’s back comfortingly.

“You should try apologizing, Kun ge,” Kunhang says.

“No, I fucked up, he’ll hate me even more if I apologize!” Kun states, hands blinding searching for shot glasses that aren’t already empty. There are none. Kun has downed all six vodka shots down alone.

“But how will he know you’re sorry if you don’t tell him?” Yukhei asks.

“Oh,” Kun wonders out loud. “Oh, right.”

Yukhei sighs and chuckles a little. “Go on, Kun ge, text him,” he urges.

“Mm,” Kun agrees. “You two should go dance, enjoy.”

“Kun ge, no, we—” Kunhang starts, but Kun cuts him off with a smile. “I’m fine, Kunhang. Don’t let me ruin this for you two.”

Yukhei and Kunhang try to protest but Kun shoos them away. They leave with the promise of returning within 20 minutes to check on him. Kun smiles fondly at them as they walk into the throng of dancing bodies, hand in hand, and calls for more vodka.

Kun is well on his way to being drunk after downing two more shots and pulls his phone out to text Ten. He bites his lower lip as he keysmashes and hopes Ten gets the message: `I’m sorry. You're gorgeous and I want you too. I’m just scared of what you make me feel. I'm sorry I fucked this up, Ten.`

He waits and waits, but Ten does not reply. Sighing heavily, sadly, Kun calls for some water; figures he needs to start hydrating if he doesn’t want to end up with a killer hangover the next morning. The phone buzzes suddenly and Kun scrambles to open the message. It’s from Ten: `If music production doesn’t work out, you could consider a career in writing cheesy greeting cards.`

It makes Kun laugh. If Ten is insulting him, it’s a good sign. He texts back: `Oh, didn’t I tell you? It was my childhood dream.`

Ten replies immediately: `Quite snarky for someone who hasn’t been forgiven yet, huh.`

Kun chews on his lower lip and then glugs the water that arrives, before texting Ten: `I really am sorry, Ten. Please tell me how to earn your forgiveness?`

There’s no reply for a long while, but Kun doesn’t feel too worried. Ten deigned to talk to him. Yukhei and Kunhang return to him a minute later and are pleasantly surprised to see a dopey smile playing on his lips.

“All good, Kun ge?” Yukhei asks.

“Not quite,” Kun answers. “But I’ll get there.”

Yukhei smiles at him, as does Kunhang, who says, “You look much better, Kun ge.”

“Thanks,” Kun smiles. “I feel better, too.”

Kun’s phone buzzes in his hand. His eyes widen as he sees that it’s Ten calling.

“We’ll go dance some more,” Kunhang tells him, grabbing Yukhei’s hand and dragging him away. Kun takes in a breath and picks up the call.

“Wow, this is loud, are you at a club?” Ten asks.

“Mm,” Kun answers. “I’m sorry.”

“For being at a club?” 

“Ten,” Kun insists. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Come over,” Ten states, not missing a beat.

“I’m drunk,” Kun replies. He doesn’t know why he says it, but it feels right to tell Ten that before—before whatever happens.

“I figured,” Ten sighs. “Get into a cab and come over,” he repeats firmly.

Kun realizes this is the last of all the chances Ten would be willing to give him. “Yeah,” he tells Ten, without any hesitation in his voice. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hi. I figured I'll take a break from [untld.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714371) angst, and write my favourite banter-heavy fic before I disappear for roughly three months because of Work. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and that it makes waiting a few months for the next chapter worth it.
> 
> Do let me know. (I could do with some kind words, ahaha.)
> 
> P.S.: Please go give Untld. some love.
> 
> My [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/gummieistrying); my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/gummieistrying).

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hi! Do tell me what you think; it motivates me to write!
> 
> My [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/gummieistrying); my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/gummieistrying).


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